Lost Love
by MrsMalfoy12345
Summary: Fremione. Hermione after the death of her love Fred.


I Own Nothing :)

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She stared at the Weasley family clock for hours. Watching the hands barely moving. One hand in particular kept her sitting at the rickety kitchen table. Her forgotten tea lay cold in her hands. Lost. Lost, lost, lost. He would always be lost now. As would she. She was lost without him. She was a different person now that he was gone. She was distant and empty. A shell of what she had once been. They called her a hero. She called herself a traitor. She should have been fighting with him instead of destroying horcruxes. She should have died. It should have been her. He was loved by everyone. He was too good to go. She told herself these things all the time. Her life meant nothing now without him. She hadn't said goodbye properly. She wasn't going to the funeral. She would break down again if she did. Crying uncontrollably. Silently. Everyone was at the funeral. Saying their last goodbyes. No one cared that she wasn't there. No one cared. She was a nothing. Unimportant. She wasn't family to anyone. She had lost her parents. And she had lost him. She stood up and walked to a window. She looked out into the fields surrounding The Burrow. Just beyond her line of sight there was a cherry tree. It would be in full bloom now. Before the war. Before the wedding. Before the panic. She had went down to the tree with him. They had lay on the grass staring up at the clouds. Before they left he had gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him. She had thrown her arms around him and kissed him like she was crazy. He had just smiled and returned the kisses with a fiercer passion than her own. They hadn't told anyone. No one knew. No one ever would. Their secret would always be that. A secret. Her reflection looked back at her. She hadn't changed into her clothes. She was standing with her hair a mess and in her nightgown. She had to let go. The grief was consuming her. Everything she tried to do was painful. Her heart was heavy and broken. She had to say goodbye. Or she would join him quicker than she should have to. She slowly walked up the stairs to Ginny's bedroom. They creaked under her. She had lost weight over the last few weeks. She barely ate these days. She opened the wardrobe they shared. She hardly had anything black other than her school robes. She pulled out a simple black knee length dress. The sleeves went down to her elbows. Her pale skin looked like snow under the black of the dress. She brushed her hair until it was only slightly frizzy. He had liked it that way. She took a drink of water when she went back into the kitchen. Her dry lips were cracked and torn. She hadn't said a word in days. Her throat ached. She slid on her black flat shoes and walked out the back door. She hears quiet mumbling from the front making her believe that the funeral was over. She quietly made her way down to the small graveyard that he was buried in. She walked through the graveyard putting it off as much as possible. She finally reached his grave. Many flowers were places all around the stone slab. Neat, elaborate script was engraved on the coffin. Tears rolled down her cheek as she read the words. This was the final memory of him. All people would see to know that he lives. A piece of rock in the ground. No one would know about the brave young man with the fiery red hair who died for a better world. Who died for what he believed in. Her mouth moved along with her eyes silently reciting the final words about him.

Frederick Gideon Weasley

Joker, prankster, joy.

A loving son, brother and friend.

Never forgotten.

Always loved.

The tears flowed freely. Wetting her face. Why did you leave? She asked his grave. Why did you leave me alone? I miss you. You said you would always be here for me. Always with me. You said that I was to love you but let you go. She had never understood what he had meant by that. She did now. He had been telling her back then that if he died that she was to love him but find someone and let go. I must let go. She told herself. She stood up and laid a white rose at the foot of his grave. Mizpah my love.

The verse stood out in her head as clear as a crystal. It had always been her favourite. She looked at his grave a final time as she opened her heart and let her words fly straight from her heart.

And Mizpah; for he said, The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another.

Goodbye my love. She started to walk away. A wind blew across her face. It was a cooling, refreshing wind. In that moment she knew that he was up in Heaven smiling down at her.


End file.
